


the punk and the godfather

by gatsbys



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Minor Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak, it's a music au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatsbys/pseuds/gatsbys
Summary: “I’m Richie,” he says, one headphone in.“Stanley,”Richie’s lip tugs up at the corner. “Stanley the Manly.”He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. “Uh, you can call me that. If you want.”“Whatever you say, Stan my man.” he puts in his other headphone then, and a song starts playing so loud that Stan can hear it on the other side of the table.-Richie and Stan share an art class.





	1. listen for fate's whisper

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea to write this originally as a genderswap but it wasn't working so I started writing this as it is now but it's getting too long so I'm splitting it up into multi chapters but lowkey I hate it *shrugging emoji* Every song mentioned or that I imagined Richie was listening to will be on [this](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=9QczyKEDSSWXCzhMwFqj1g) playlist and will be updated until the fic is done, listen if u can :~)

The way this turn of events happens is a lot like the beginning of the Fresh Prince theme song-- _now this is the story all about how, my life got flipped, turned upside down._ It wasn’t _his_ fault he had all his major credits completed by spring semester senior year, so he had to take Intro to Art. It was more the teachers’ fault for sitting the class alphabetically, by last name, so Richie Tozier and Stan Uris sat across from each other.

 

He didn’t know a lot about Richie, just that his reputation preceded him--his friends called him Trashmouth and he got in trouble in class; he wore heavy Doc Martens and his denim jacket smells faintly like a skunk when he put it down on the chair next to him. The desks were supposed to fit four at a table, but they were the last ones on the roster--so it was just the two of them. Stan was nervous. He wasn’t that good with new people and Richie obviously got his nickname from _somewhere_.

 

The teacher passes around empty sketchbooks that they’ll use for the rest of the semester. She announces that today they’re going to do an exercise drawing something small, to see where everyone is at, and on quiet days they can listen to music on their phones. Richie grabs his phone, headphones wrapped around it, out of the pocket of his denim jacket. He looks at Stan then.

 

“I’m Richie,” he says, one headphone in.

 

“Stanley,”

 

Richie’s lip tugs up at the corner. “Stanley the Manly.”

 

He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. “Uh, you can call me that. If you want.”

 

“Whatever you say, Stan my man.” he puts in his other headphone then, and a song starts playing so loud that Stan can hear it on the other side of the table.

 

Richie focuses on drawing an extra pencil, and Stan opens his notebook, but can’t put anything on paper. He looks at Richie across the table--thick curly hair, big glasses, freckles dusting across his face--and gets a feeling deep in his stomach.

-

Most days in art are quiet days. The first project is simple--split a page in their notebook into nine panels, then draw variations of the same thing or idea (like all the different things that come to mind when you say _cosmetics_ ). After they have their panels, they’ll copy it onto a bigger poster, drawn with thin Sharpie. The project starts on the 3rd day of class; for the week and a half it takes, Richie and Stan don’t say anything to each other. Richie draws and listens to music (loudly) and leaves class and blows all of Stan’s expectations out of the water. Wasn’t this guy gonna _talk_? And why was his music always so _loud_? He felt like his mother, expecting everyone to fill stereotypes and not being able to handle loud music.

 

They start their second project, drawing animals. Stan prints out a rainbow lorikeet, his favorite Australian bird. Richie sits down across from him, a printout of a red fox and his notebook in one hand, his phone in the other. He plugs his headphones in but before he can hit play, Stan asks, “What are you listening to today?” he just wants to _know_.

 

Richie looks at his phone. “‘Suburban Home.’ The Descendants.”

 

Stan doesn’t know what he was expecting. “Oh. I don’t know them.” he doesn’t really listen to a lot music, just classical and whatever is on the radio sometimes. But the songs Stan can hear through Richie’s headphones make him think about music; the vibrations never sound the same--what is it like to know that many songs?

 

“I live to surprise.”

-

 

Richie finishes his fox early, and spends the remaining two days dedicated to working on their animal projects with his head in his arms or with music blasting. Stan finishes on the last day, but his lorikeet looks like shit. He hoped this art class would tune his art skills a little, but alas an artist he was not. He pushes the finished product to the side and sighs.

 

“I like your bird.” Richie says, looking through his arms.

 

“Thank you,” Stan is a little shocked at this interaction--they haven’t talked since last week when he asked about the song. “it’s a rainbow lorikeet. They’re from Australia.”

 

“I don’t know a lot about birds.” He eyes the drawing again, putting his phone on the table, headphones still plugged in. Stan can see the song is paused, the album cover blue with horses on it--he doesn’t recognize it, naturally. “Stan my man, why are you so interested in what I’m listening to?”

 

Richie’s tone is light, amused, but Stan feels embarrassed at getting caught peeping at someone elses’ phone. “Sorry, I just--I don’t really listen to a lot of music. And you seem to listen to so much. It interests me. I shouldn’t have looked I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Richie smiles at him, then slides his phone across the table so Stan can see the name of the song: Good Friday by WHY?

 

“I don’t know this song.”

 

“I think you need _an education_.” Richie winks at him, a double entendre, and Stan blushes down to his toes.

-

Stan goes to lunch, brown bag in hand, sitting at his usual table across from Mike. Ben is there already, mid-story, a ham sandwich in hand.

 

“Hey guys,” he greets. He opens his lunch but feels no appetite--or up to adding in to his friends conversation.

 

“Stan, are you ok?” Mike asks, after half a period of slightly stilted conversation.

 

“Just not feeling that good.” he gets up to throw his food out as a nearby group erupts in half laughter/half groans; _ugh beep beep, Richie_ someone says, clearly irritated.

 

Stan looks them over as he throws out his mother’s carefully packed lunch. There’s a redheaded girl at the end, smiling brightly. Across from her is a small-ish guy, looking incredibly flustered. Leaning on the table is Richie Tozier, eyes dancing behind his glasses, looking so different than he did last period. “Aw Eds, you know your mom loves me, though.”

 

His eyes flick up at the end of his sentence, briefly meeting Stan’s--Stan raises his hand and waves but Richie looks away.

  
_Stupid_. That was _stupid_.


	2. find anyway to make you stay forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Richie draw and listen to music together.
> 
>  
> 
> [Someday - The Growlers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wK2OqpjCWj4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget y'all, I have the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=MdWZ5jXdQbOQLquaYvQocQ) for this fic here if you want to hear any of the songs mentioned or what I imagine they're listening to!! I know this one is a little short but there's Something Big happening soon and we needed this

On Monday, their teacher is absent. She leaves no work, so Stan resigns himself to studying for an entire period. Richie comes in late, dropping down across the table. He plugs his headphones in like usual and the song blasts--Stan looks up from his notes at the sound.

 

“It’s T. Rex today, Stanny boy.”

 

Stan makes a noise in his throat and looks back at his notes but doesn’t see anything on the page. _Genetics_ , _homologous traits_ , _chromosomes_ ,he was just focusing...there’s a shuffling and Richie shoves himself into the unoccupied seat next to Stan.

 

“I think it’s time for your education now.” he says solemnly, offering one headphone. Stan just looks at. “Am I really that gross?” he whines in mock hurt.

 

Stan looks into Richie’s magnified eyes, then the headphone, then into his eyes again. “Yes.”

 

First, he snorts, then lets out a loud guffaw--head thrown back and everything. Stan thought what he said wasn’t that funny, but he likes Richie’s laugh. “Yowza! You wound me Stan the Man.” he offers Stan the other headphone again, and this time he takes it.

 

The first song starts with literal screaming and heavy guitars, the singer yelling about anarchy and burgers. Stan doesn’t like this song, forcing himself to focus on the lyrics but it just makes it sound worse. Richie is tapping his boot underneath the table, clearly feeling the emotion the song is giving. Finally, after an excruciating three minutes, it ends, reverberating through one ear.

 

“Fuck, that song is so good.” Richie sighs, looking like he wants to put it on again.

 

“I didn’t like it too much.” Stan replies, honestly.

 

“You will, in time,” he scrolls through songs, the next one a smooth instrumental that Stan enjoys a lot more.

 

They just listen and Stan gets caught up in the music and Richie’s comforting presence next to him. The bell rings, and he doesn’t want to leave. Richie takes his headphones back, and Stan feels like this moment is really Important.

 

“What was the second song?” he rushes.

 

“What?”

 

“The one after anarchy burgers,” he explains. “I really liked it.”

 

“Oh,” Richie pushes his glasses up. “it’s called ‘The Fruit is for Everyone.’”

 

Stan smiles at him, hoping it’ll say more. “Thanks.”

 

Apparently, it doesn’t. He gets his backpack while Richie fumbles with his things, and is halfway out the door when he feels a hand on his arm.

 

“Uh, here,” Richie hands him a piece of paper folded in half. “it’s my Spotify.” Stan opens the paper and _trashmouth6969_ is written in messy cursive. “I don’t know if you use it, I mean I don’t think you even listen to music, but if you want--”

 

“Thank you.” Stan means it, genuinely.

-

That night, he lies in bed and downloads Spotify, following Richie’s account right away. He scrolls through all the playlists ( _punk/new wave_ , _growing up sucks_ , _songs to yell_ , _luuuv songs_ and 25 others) before clicking on a playlist titled “sleep.” “‘39” by Queen starts--Stan imagines Richie in bed where ever he is, listening to this same playlist every night before going to bed. Maybe they’re listening to it at the same time right now. Death Cab for Cutie comes on next and Stan wonders if Richie sleeps in goofy pajamas to match his goofy shirts as he drifts off.

-

“I listened to your sleep playlist.” Stan says the next day, as Richie approaches their table.

 

“Aw Stanley, you thought about me while you were going to sleep,” Richie teases. Stan blanches because, yeah he kinda did fall asleep thinking about Richie last night.

 

Richie drops his bag down on the table but doesn’t sit in his usual seat--he settles into the place he sat in yesterday, right next to Stan, giving only a wink as an explanation. Their teacher begins to explain their next project (drawing realistic spheres, showing how light changes), so he couldn’t open his big mouth anyway.

 

They both take out their sketchbooks, and Richie slides his phone out, like usual, except today he offers Stan his other headphone again. Stan takes it, and a female voice floods his right ear as he gets to drawing his circle.

 

“I’m listening to more female punk,” Richie says, an explanation for no real reason, “they’re so powerful, they leave me shaking in my boots.” he looks thoughtfully at his half-circle. “Like my friend Bev, she should be the lead singer of a girlband.”

 

“Oh, that’s who you where with!” Stan blurts. He knew Beverly Marsh--recognized her in his memory as the girl from the table--but now he has to admit to his embarrassing moment from last week after looking at Richie’s confused expression. “I saw you in the lunchroom with Beverly. On Friday. But I don’t think you saw me, though.”

 

Stan hoped he didn’t--that stupid wave made him cringe to the core every time he thought about it.

 

“Oh,” recognition passes across his face, “yeah sometimes I skip my next period to see Bev and Eddie in lunch. But I assure you, Stan my man, if I saw you I _definitely_ would have said hello.”

 

“Whatever trashmouth6969,” is the only response he can come up with, and they go back to drawing, arms slightly resting against each other.

-

Richie unofficially moves his seat next to Stan. Everyday they draw and share Richie’s headphones, then Stan goes home and listens to more of Richie’s playlists. He has Opinions™ now--Jim Morrison is the superior classic rock voice, and yes Going Grey _is_ a worthwhile Front Bottoms album. He never really thought about music like this, as something that could move you and make you feel strong emotions.

 

He looks at Richie, nose scrunched as he focuses on smudging his sphere drawing. They were listening to The Growlers today (he really liked The Doors and all bands sounding like an acid trip with slick guitar), and Stan feels really glad his opinion changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what u think or find me on twitter @stoziersmax ♡


	3. i find myself thinking about you all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Stan ditch lunch, and Richie asks a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm updating frequently, it's just bcos I originally had this story planned as a oneshot so I have all my ideas planned already I just have to write them and I don't really see the point in waiting to post once I finished lmao. This weekend I'm going to a con to meet the IT cast (!!!) and then it's my spring break so it might be a few days until the next update. As always, the [playlist is here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=iGT3CpAwR6my4zEbAS9tyA).

As Richie wraps his headphones around his phone, he asks, “Are you doing anything for lunch?”

 

“No,” Stan imagines his mother’s meticulously packed brown bag in his locker, “just a pastrami sandwich.”

 

“Make sure you bring that sandwich, Stanny boy. Eds, Bev, and I are skipping next period to visit Eddie’s crush--are you coming?”

 

Stan weighed his options; he never skipped class but it was just lunch. And he wanted to spend more time with Richie. _One_ lunch period wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll come.” he smiles at Richie and Richie smiles back, both of them looking goofily at each other until the bell officially rings.

 

Stan grabs his phone and texts Ben _won’t be in lunch don’t miss me_ as they walk down the hallway together. Richie’s plan of escape is just to walk out the side door--there are no cameras here, and they make it out without a hitch. His car was a beater, parked on a sidestreet, with huge fuzzy dice hanging off the rearview mirror.

 

“We have to wait a few minutes for the others,” Richie plugs his phone into the aux, the tape player kind, and The Soft Parade by The Doors starts. Stan argued in class that The Soft Parade was a good album even though the critics panned it, all you had to do was _listen_ Rich and you would agree.

 

“This isn’t really all you make it out to be,” Richie shakes his head, as Jim Morrison yells _when I was back there, in seminary school..._

 

“Only the Lizard King could make this song great.” Stan replies, holding on strong to his opinion about how sexy Jim Morrison was. “This is my favorite song right now, don’t talk shit about it!”

 

A serious expression passes over Richie’s face. “Did you have a favorite song before?” the _before me?_ Is left unsaid.

 

“Uh, I used to not really listen to a lot of music, just classical mostly. I don’t think I had one.” he plays with strap on his backpack, but a memory comes shooting into his mind with such force he might have fallen over if he was standing up. “Maybe, ‘This Magic Moment.’ When I was little, my dad would drive me around with ‘50s hits CDs on. We used to do everything together. But I grew up and he got a better job, so we stopped doing that.”

 

“Stanley, I would not take you for a Drifters man.” Richie snaps the beat, and starts singing off key, “ _This magic moment, so different and so neeeeew, was like any ooooother, until I kiiiiised yoooou_ ,”

 

Stan looks at him, singing his childhood favorite song, with his big hair and big eyes, and feels the urge to kiss him. He wants to kiss Richie and feels the itch in his fingers, in the butterflies in his stomach. He leans in, just a little--

 

“Howdy,” Beverly Marsh opens the back door and gets in, completely ruining the moment. Richie rips away from Stan’s gaze, turning around fully to say hey back, but his voice is tight and he’s glaring. “Ok Rich, I’ll let you be moody today. Eddie will be here in a sec.”

 

As she says that, the door opens and Eddie Kaspbrak pushes Bev over in the backseat.

 

“The gangs all here.” Richie addresses the car as he fully starts it. “This is Stan.” he looks in the review to his friends, but his ears are pink after what almost happened. “Stan this is Bev and Eddie.”

 

Stan turns around in his seat and gives them a half wave. “Where are we going, anyway?”

 

“To visit the love of Ed’s life, Billiam, and maybe get something to eat.” Richie replies.

 

“Shut up, _Dick_.”

 

“My heart races when he calls me that.” Richie flutters his lashes at Stan before focusing on the road again.

 

They approach a house and Stan knows where they’re going. “Um, are we going to see Bill Denbrough?”

 

He had an honors class with Bill, and generally got along with him, until Bill left to do online school and help his family after his brother got sick.

 

“You know Bill?” Eddie asks, leaning between the back and front seats.

 

“Not really, I just had class with him. Before he left.”

 

“Eddie _graciously_ volunteered to help Bill keep on track with online school. They spend _hours_ working hard _studying_.” The euphemisms were laced heavy in Richie’s sentence.

 

“Workin’ _hard_ or _hard_ ly working, right Eddie?” Bev adds, teasing.

 

“I’m tired of getting bullied in this car.” Eddie takes out his phone to, what Stan can now only assume, is text Bill Denbrough about his woes.

 

They pull in front of the house and Bill is out in seconds (Stan guesses he was right, Eddie probably was texting him), and half jogging towards the car. He slides in next to Eddie, “Hey guys.” a weird pause. “Hey Stan.”

 

“Hi Bill,”

 

“Me and Stan are best buds now,” Richie says through the mirror, “so he gets to be part of the club.”

 

“Ok,” Bill raises his hands in defense, “but that doesn’t answer what we’re gonna do now.”

 

“Very true, Big Bill.” Bev replies, ruffling his hair.

-

They don’t have enough time to get anything, bring Bill home, _and_ get back to school, so the gang goes to 7/11. Stan gets a Clif Bar and checks the Arizona iced tea’s for the Kosher symbol--sometimes they have Kosher ones and sometimes they don’t (maybe he should stop risking it, but they’re so good). There’s a raspberry one and he grabs it, checking out quickly.

 

Outside, Bev and Richie are sharing a cigarette. Stan sits down on the ledge of the store next to Richie while they wait for Eddie and Bill; he opens his Clif Bar, and offers the other half. Richie declines, blowing smoke out of his nose.

 

After Stan eats his snack and drinks half his Arizona, Bill and Eddie come out, with only a Hershey bar between them. “Fucking finally,” Bev throws the cig on the ground, “were you guys groping each other in the freezer section?”

 

“No,” Eddie sneers back, “I just couldn’t decide what I wanted.”

 

They head to Richie’s car and on the drive back to school Stan feels _happy_ \--he wishes Ben and Mike were here too; he knew they would fit in seamlessly.

-

Stan hangs around until it’s just him and Richie, and luckily the other two get the hint.

 

“Did you enjoy the lunchscapes?”

 

“I didn’t miss my mom’s sandwich.” Stan looks at Richie, locking his car manually, and decides to be totally honest. “I’ve never skipped class before. I’m glad I did my first bad thing with you.” _Wait._ “I mean...”

 

“I’d be happy to teach you plenty more bad things.” Richie’s voice is teasing, but not like when he’s telling Stan his opinion is wrong about a song. It’s teasing in a _flirty_ way and Stan can’t look at him anymore. He feels like he might explode.

-

Later, when he’s home doing homework and digging around his backpack for a notebook, he finds a piece of paper shoved inside. He recognizes Richie’s handwriting, and probably would’ve guessed it was him at the smilies in the zeros of his phone number. He sends a text, _hey :)_ , then another ( _it’s stan btw_ ) and gets back to his English. 45 minutes later he gets one back: _oof sorry with bev_. Stan sends back _it’s ok!!_ , then finishes all his homework, and takes a shower, and gets ready for bed, and turns on the sleep playlist, and there was no text back.

 

Not that he was _worried_ or that it _meant_ anything, but they were sort of having a conversation, right?

 

He’s probably five minutes away from being asleep when his phone starts ringing. He jumps up, grabbing it, afraid of an emergency.

 

“Hello?” he says drowsily into the phone.

 

“Were you sleeping? It’s like 11:45, Stan.”

 

“Richie?”

 

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says sincerely, “I just had to ask you something.”

 

“Then ask it, I could be sleeping right now.” Stan settles back into his cocoon of blankets, his phone in the crook of his neck.

 

“Well,” suddenly he sounds nervous. “I’m in this band, and we’re performing on Thursday. And I was just wondering if you wanted to come.”

 

Stan creates an image in his mind of Richie on stage, shredding a guitar, singing his little heart out (maybe Why Can’t I Touch It?, his new favorite song). “Definitely. I wouldn’t miss it.”

 

“Ok. Great. That’s great. See you tomorrow.” Before he can hang up, Stan hears Bev start to ask _what did he--?_

 

Stan puts his phone back on the nightstand, and smiles into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what you think, or find me on twitter @stoziersmax


	4. sweeter than wine, softer than a summer's night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan goes to a concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it I finished this chapter today and decided to double upload before I go to MM this weekend *shrugging emoji* As always, [the playlist is here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=Xp5Tk_pNRledG0D0fQy5Vw).
> 
>  
> 
> [This Magic Moment - Misfits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsMCfobjaPA)

It’s Wednesday and they’re working on self portraits, Stan struggling with getting his hair right, and Richie getting frustrated with the reflection on his glasses in his reference picture. It’s silent between them (except for the music, of course) and Stan thinks about the concert tomorrow. He wonders what Richie’s singing voice is like--he’s just assuming he’s the lead singer, and he doesn’t know who else is in the band, but really who else would it be?

 

“About tomorrow,” Richie starts, frustratingly dropping his pencil, “I forgot to tell you where it is. It’s at this place called Cool Beanz, I’ll text you how to get there.”

 

Stan likes that Richie can _text him_ , that whatever this thing is is bigger than just talking in art class.

 

“Are you nervous?” Stan asks, smudging a piece of black-and-white-Stan’s hair.

 

“Stan, I _never_ get nervous.” he says confidently, looking intently as his reference picture again.

 

 _Yes you do_ , Stan thinks, Richie’s unsure, shaky _well_ rattling around Stan’s skull. But he doesn’t say anything, he’ll let the trashmouth have this one.

-

Thursday goes by in a wink and Stan can’t focus at all. In art, he messes up his self portrait more and doesn’t even notice when Richie puts on Anarchy Burger, which usually gets him riled up.

 

As they pack up, Richie asks, “Are you still coming later?”

 

“Yeah, of course!”

 

“Oh, ok,” he looks reassured, “you just seemed distracted today, I thought maybe you were sick.”

 

“No, I’m great,” he hopes that says in so little words he wouldn’t miss this for anything.

 

“Later, Stan the Man,” Richie grabs his shoulder as he walks away, and the spot burns.

-

Stan irons the shirt he’s going to wear so many times it could go to Cool Beanz on it’s own. He unplugs the iron and counts backward from 10, trying to calm his anxiety. On the drive home, he had a realization--was this a date? There was never any clarification. They were friends, but they flirted, _and_ almost kissed. So what did this mean?

 

Hence the overly ironed shirt.

 

What if it wasn’t and he looked stupid? He didn’t want to go alone, even though he spent most of his time with Richie alone. Stan picked up his phone and called the most romantic person he knew.

 

“Hello?” Ben picked up after three rings.

 

“Hey Ben, I kind of have a favor to ask.” Stan’s anxiety lessened at the calming voice of his friend, but he could still pass out at any second.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“I have this maybe-date tonight, I don’t know what it is really, I already had three panic attacks. Will you come with me? Please.” he begs at the end.

 

“You have a _date_?”

 

“Ok, no need to sound so shocked.”

 

“I’m not shocked,” he replies, sounding shocked, “just--with who?”

 

“Uh, with Richie Tozier.”

 

“Hmmm. Yeah, I’ll come with you, Stan.” Ben says, in a voice that sounds a lot like he was coming just to see how it’ll all play out.

 

“Thank you, can you come get me in an hour?” Stan rushes, then hangs up, hearing Ben’s voice say _I have to drive too?_ before hitting end.

-

Cool Beanz is as big as the school cafeteria, _maybe._  There’s a small back bar, and it smells like piss a little bit. Richie’s band was coming on in ten minutes--he wanted to be here earlier, but Ben made him explain the whole story in excruciating detail on the way, so they were late.

 

As soon as they get inside, Stan gets shoved into a couple by accident. “Sorry,” he touches the guys shoulder, so he knows it wasn’t on purpose.

 

“What _the_ fu--” the person turns around and it’s Eddie Kaspbrak, pulling his face away from Bill Denbrough. “ _Oh_.” he gives Stan a knowing look. “Richie’s so happy you’re here.”

 

“Yeah, I’m glad to be here.” Stan doesn’t really know how to reply to the weird implications in Eddie’s tone. “We’re gonna get closer, do you guys want to come?”

 

“Nah, we’re ok right here, perfect view,” Bill answers, throwing his arm around Eddie. Stan turns around and there’s a giant pole blocking the view of the stage--he gets why it’s so easy to make fun of them now.

 

“See you guys later,” when they’re out of earshot, Stan whispers “they’re gonna make out the entire time.”

 

“Well, they’re in a better spot than you.” Ben takes a sip of his water, “At least they both know what they were planning on doing when they got here.”

 

“Fuck you,” Stan responds, half annoyed half embarrassed, as they settled into a spot in front of the bar, dead center. “and you look like the Kermit meme when you sip your water like that.”

 

Ben chokes on a laugh, and Stan pulls out his phone. He texts Richie _here!!_ with a picture of where he and Ben are in the crowd.

 

_see u soon :)_

 

A few minutes later, the lights dim and a group walks onstage. He recognizes Richie’s hair in the dark, the familiar way he ruffles it after months of sitting next to him every day. He approaches the mic, a guitar slung over his back.

 

“So, uh, we’re Bizarre Love Triangle, I’m Richie and we’re gonna play some songs!” the crowd yells in excitement as he strums a note. Stan sees Bev sitting at the drums; the only person he doesn’t recognize is the bassist. “The first song we’re gonna play is Here Comes Your Man,” he starts strumming that iconic opening and Stan’s anxiety melts away. It’s like art class, but different.

 

On stage, Richie sings “ _There is a wait so long, you’ll never wait so long,_ ”

-

“Alright, this is our last song,” Richie says, taking a swig of water, “but it’s for a special person here tonight. They’ll know who they are.”

 

Stan doesn’t recognize it immediately, the drums were loud and the guitar but once the lyrics picked up the song was unmistakable. Richie was singing This Magic Moment. Richie was singing This Magic Moment to _him._ Stan couldn’t tell if Richie was really looking at him, or just looking at the crowd, but it felt like just the two of them as he sang “ _this magic moment, while your lips are close to mine, will last forever until the end of time._ ”

 

He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He didn’t love Richie yet (this _was_ their first maybe-date), but he knew in this moment (a magic one), that he could and he would.

 

“Stan, are you ok?” Ben asks, as the band leaves the stage.

 

“Yeah,” he was fine, he just felt his life changing.

-

Richie finds them in the crowd after the show, sweaty and happy.

 

“Did you like it?” he asks, his smile so contagious Stan can’t help but grin back at him.

 

“Yeah, I loved it! You guys are great!”

 

“Thanks,” Richie runs a hand through his hair, then takes a step closer, “maybe next time, though, you can come alone.”

 

That was him explicitly stating that this _was_ a date. Stan felt dumb as fuck for bringing Ben, but there was nothing he could do now. “Next time?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Richie shrugs.

 

“Ok,” Stan smiles goofily at him.

 

“Ok,”

 

“Ok,”

 

“Uh,” Ben interrupts from the bar, “I’m gonna go wait outside.”

 

“Wait, I’m coming with you,” Stan says to Ben, then turns back to Richie, “See you tomorrow?”

 

There’s a beat. “Yeah, see you.”

 

Ben and Stan make their way out of the crowd, but a feeling bubbles up inside him. He doesn’t want to leave this place unless he deals with it--Richie made a grand gesture for him, he should build up the courage.

 

“I, uh, left my, uh...” He doesn’t finish, hand half raised in a gesture towards the bar, before just turning around and making his way back towards it.

 

Richie is there, nursing a Shirley Temple with his back towards him. He taps him on the shoulder, and when he turns around Stan launches forward, kissing him hard. The angle is weird and Richie is surprised (and sweaty). But his mouth tastes like sugar from his drink, and they’d been waiting for _so long_.

 

“Fuck,” Richie whispers, resting his forehead on Stan’s.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

 

This time, Richie kisses Stan and their mouths fit together like the right key and lock, like two things that belong together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on twitter @stoziersmax or comment what you think


	5. you coward, you hummingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure how I feel about this chapter idk it's probs just my brain. Anyways [playlist is here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=PlV_NjHtT2eyORGWZbu1JQ) as usual.

Stan leaves the club, feeling out of his body. Outside, Ben is talking to none other than Beverly Marsh, a cig between her fingers as she laughs. They both look at him as he approaches, and he hopes they don’t notices his slightly bruised lips--from the way Bev is smiling at him as she blows out her smoke, they know.

 

“Did you get everything worked out?” Ben asks, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” he goes for cool, but his voice is a little breathless.

 

“I’m going back in,” Bev stomps out her cigarette and heads back inside--Stan assumes right to Richie, to find out what happened, and he only feels a little embarrassed.

-

As Stan settles into bed, he scrolls through Richie’s playlists. He knows all the names by heart after looking through them every single day, but there’s a new one at the top this time; the title is just the bird emoji. He shuffles the playlist and looks through the songs: _I Wanna Be Your Dog_ , _Temptation_ , _Friday I’m in Love_...the song that comes on first is called _Sparrow_.

 

He falls asleep more content than ever, the lyrics playing over and over in his mind, _when I think of you it makes me want to cry, and I find myself thinking about you all the time..._

-

It’s Friday, and Stan is standing in the bathroom in the three minutes before Art--he’s nervous about seeing Richie after last night, the anxiety never leaving since he woke up, something even a scalding shower and all his other usual tricks can’t fix. The bell rings, signaling the start of the new period; Stan couldn’t wait any longer. He sighed, trudging out of the bathroom to his classroom right across the hall, and right into the back of Richie Tozier. Stan should have known waiting would be a stupid idea, Richie is never early to class.

 

“Uh, hey,” he says, grabbing his curls; a nervous tick.

 

“Hey,” Richie smiles big at him, then grabs one of the double doors to the art lab, gesturing for him to go in, “Lassie.” his accent was Scottish mixed with Irish, but wholly terrible.

 

They’re not too late, they don’t even get a reprimand for the teacher as they both grab their folders of artwork and sit down. Richie gets his phone out, offering his headphone--like nothing had changed but everything had at the same time. In his ear, _Six Different Ways_ begins, and he shifts his focus to his shitty self portrait. He sighs and digs in.

-

As the song changes, he recognizes the voice of the singer as the same woman who sung _Sparrow_ off Richie’s new playlist. He thought maybe Richie made that playlist for him, with all the songs talking about feelings, and the constant references to birds ( _everyone_ knows Stan loves birds, even Richie); _Painted Bird_ by Siouxsie Sioux felt like a dead giveaway, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

 

“I liked your new playlist,” Stan says, taking a break from messing up his teeth.

 

Richie stops freckling his self portrait, but doesn’t look up. “What new playlist?”

 

“The one with the bird emoji? I listened to it last night.”

 

Stan watches as Richie makes a freckle darker and darker, until it looks like a mistake on the paper. “Oh,” he replies finally, but his voice is tight, “that one.”

 

“Sorry, was I not supposed to listen to it?” Stan felt the nerves bubbling up in his stomach again. He didn’t want to fuck up majorly, but sharing music was how whatever-this-was started, and Richie had never stopped him before.

 

“Nah, I didn’t mean to make that one public. It was kinda a personal one, you’re fine Stan my man.” Richie grinned at him but it looked like a grimace, and his eyes behind his Coke bottle glasses looked like they were begging Stan to just _understand._

 

“Oh,” Stan can’t keep up the eye contact anymore so he looks back at his portrait. The air between them is uncomfortable now, and he hates it.

 

Neither of them say anything for the rest of the period. The live version of _I Want You to Want Me_ comes on--Richie skips it immediately.

 

The bell rings and Richie shoves his portrait away and walks out of class so fast he looks like Roadrunner. Stan just sighs into his hands.

-

They don’t see each other the rest of the day, and when he gets home Stan texts Richie _sorry about that weirdness in class hopefully soon we can go on our next time :)_

 

He doesn’t get a reply, not that he really expected to, but still feels frustrated as he flops into bed.

-

Ben and Mike come over the next day--he hopes his best friends will be a big distraction but instead he just spills his guts.

 

“Well Stanley,” Mike says gently, “I think you did everything that you could. Now you just have to wait.”

 

“But I didn’t _do_ anything, why am I getting ignored?” he whines.

 

“Some people just do shitty things when they can’t handle their feelings,” Ben butts in, “Do you guys want to see Black Panther in an hour?”

 

“Yeah, I’m down,” Mike replies, thumbing through his wallet to check his cash.

 

“Uh, I wasn’t done complaining!” Stan interjects.

 

“There’s nothing else to complain about, you can’t do anything else so let’s go to the movies.” Mike put him in his place sometimes, when he got too bratty, but it was always done nicely and always appreciated later.

 

They go to the movies and it takes Stan’s mind off the situation for awhile. Until they’re walking to Ben’s car and Stan’s thinking about the music in the movie (because he thinks about that sort of stuff now) and how much Richie would’ve liked it...so he texts him again: _just saw black panther and you would have appreciated it so much_. He hits send and has instant regret. He literally says “fuck” out loud while wracking his brain for ways to stop an iMessage.

 

“What happened?” Ben asks as the message delivers.

 

“It’s not important,” he replies, a half truth--things were already fucked up.

-

Stan wakes up on Sunday angry as hell. What was the point of everything that happened between him and Richie if he was just going to ignore him in the end? He opens up his phone, ready to turn on an angry playlist but realizes that the angry playlist would be Richie’s. Everything in his life was now tainted by Richie Tozier and he was _mad_.  

 

 _fuck you_ he sends, after not being able to focus on his homework for an hour.

 

_this is the last one but still fuck you_

-

He doesn’t feel nervous about seeing Richie on Monday, mostly just angry and annoyed still. In the end, it didn’t matter because Richie didn’t come to class at all, the minutes ticking by after the bell rang and he still didn’t show. Stan works on his project in silence for the first time since the beginning of the semester and feels the weight of the empty seat next to him.

-

He skips lunch because he doesn’t want to deal with anyone, opting to walk to the nearby 7/11 (the same one Richie took him to, but he doesn’t think about that) and grabbing something. He walks down a side street, and there’s an old car parked with music playing _loud_ \--it looks familiar to him so he approaches slowly, and in the front seat is Richie, a spoonful of a Wendy’s frosty halfway to his mouth. When they make eye contact through the glass, pure shock and fear cross his face but he covers it up quickly.

 

“Are you stalking me, Stanny?” he tries for joking, while rolling down the window.

 

“No, you fucking asshole.”

 

Richie drops the jokes, unlocking his car. “Let's talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what u think or find me on twitter @stoziersmax, I just met the IT cast this weekend so all my pics are there if anyone cares about my life


	6. you are the reason i'm smiling...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk, and a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is (technically) the last chapter wow can y'all believe we made it this far. [Playlist is here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=3-HpcZz1TbeyoxUkoRQzFw).

_11:12_... _11:13_... _11:14_...

 

The song changes again.

 

Stan didn’t have to talk first but the tension in the car was rising to unbearable levels. He looked at Richie’s profile--he had on no facade, no jokes to tell, no Voices, just his bare face, like the early days in art class. He got angry again.

 

“Why,” his voice was gruff with emotion, “Why did you ignore me?”

 

Richie kept looking out the window. Ice cream melted over the edge of his frosty cup. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to calm himself.

 

“It’s really dumb,” he finally says, at 11:21, “but I was just scared. And nervous.”

 

Stan looks at him incredulously. “You’re right Rich, that was dumb.”

 

Richie’s eyes snap away from the window, his face full of anger for a split second, but Stan continues. “I’m scared too, I’ve n-never,” he stutters, then re-words, “I don’t date people that often. You _hurt_ me.”

 

They look at each other for a long moment, then Richie offers his upturned palm. Stan takes it after a beat, and they hold hands over the console.

 

“I made that playlist for you,” Richie starts, “well, about you and how I felt. I got scared when you listened to it because I didn’t want you to know yet. I couldn’t tell if you did.”

 

“I sort of figured.” Stan tells him honestly.

 

“All my relationships have been shitty or meaningless. I didn’t want that to happen to us because I really like you. It was fucking stupid--I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too,” Stan tells him, and finds it’s true; he doesn’t even feel angry anymore. “I really like you too. And I’m glad I’m here.”

 

Richie’s thumb draws circles on Stan’s, the callouses from hours of guitar a comfort in this situation. “Stan, everyone in the past has been like ripples in a pond. You’re waves in the fucking ocean.”

 

He doesn’t go back to class.

-

_i promise to take u on a date_

 

_on friday_

 

_it’ll be so good_

 

Stan doesn’t mind the triple text, biting his lip as he reads what Richie sent. He’s listening to the bird emoji playlist, shooting back: _not on friday, it’s the sabbath._

 

_saturday_

 

_or thursday_

 

He’s trying a little too hard to get back in Stan’s good graces--not that he needs too. But Richie doesn’t have to know that yet. _s_ _aturday_ he texts back. Only five days.

-

“What are we doing on our date?” Richie asks earnestly, stretching out in his chair in class.

 

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Stan lies through his teeth--this date consumed all his waking hours, “you asked me, what’s your grand plan?”

 

“Well, since you asked...” Richie smirks, lopsided, and Stan gets lost in his face as Richie goes on about how they’ll go to a nice restaurant and _he’ll_ pay because he’s a sugar daddy now, after the show at Cool Beanz...and after he’ll bring Stan home and show him a _real_ good time, then he laughs, smile big, eyes shining--and Stan hasn’t stopped looking. “Um, that last part was a joke.”

 

“Oh, uh,” Stan finally looks away, feeling his face heat up, “I know. I was just looking at you.”

 

“Stanley, I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

-

On Thursday, they decide--Richie was adamant that he was going to cook a big dinner for Stan. He was unsure about Richie’s cooking ability, but Richie kept on surprising him, so Stan just let it be.

 

Sitting on the Tozier’s couch, smelling chicken that was definitely burning, he wished he didn’t.

 

“Rich, are you sure you don’t need help?” he asks, over music playing through portable speakers in the kitchen (the playlist was _relaxation hrs pt. 2_ , Stan knew all Richie’s playlists by heart now).

 

“I’m peachy keen,” Richie sings back, slamming the oven closed.

 

He brought in two plates, placing one in front of Stan, then waits for him to start eating. Stan picks up a fork and knife and cuts into the charred chicken. He takes a bite and one thought runs through his mind. It’s _terrible_.

 

“Wow,” he says, in the best voice he can muster, and Richie beams at him, “this is gr--” then he chokes on a burnt piece and can’t breathe.

 

Richie grabs a water glass off the ottoman and shoves it into Stan’s hand; while he’s drinking and trying not to choke to death, Richie takes Stan’s fork and bites into a piece of chicken. “This is,” the taste of the food seems to hit him at once, “holy fuck this is disgusting.”

 

Stan opens his mouth to dispute it, but he can’t; it really was disgusting. He lets out a giggle instead, and Richie drops his hand on top of Stan’s, fingers coiled around each others.

 

“Do you want pizza?” Richie asks, his handhold tightening slightly.

 

“That’s fine,”

 

Richie lets go to get up and grab the full plates, looking at them like he shouldn’t have even bothered. In the kitchen, Stan hears him call the local pizza place and shuffle around before coming back in to the living room, speaker in hand. He puts it on the ottoman, then scrolls through his playlists before settling on one-- _Peach_ by The Front Bottoms came on.

 

Suddenly, it feels like all the air in the room is sucked out. Richie moves his arm, places it on the back of the couch so his fingers accidently rub against Stan’s neck when he shifts.

 

“They said, like, 30 minutes,” Richie says, voice quiet, like he doesn’t want to burst the bubble they’re in either.

 

“Ah,” is all Stan can get out, all he can feel is the magnetic force of this moment.

 

“I hope you like pep--” Richie starts to say, and Stan kisses him, soft and languid, like the moment they’re in.

 

It’s just as good as the club, but better because they both knew what the other wanted--no running away.

 

When they finally break apart, Stan rubs his bruised lips. “Shit,” Richie breathes out, and he pushes Stan down on his back, shoving a knee in between his legs, “is this ok?”

 

“Y-Yeah,” his breath hitches, all his nerve endings on edge, only feeling _Richie_.

 

He kisses Stan hard on the mouth, then the neck, then on his exposed collarbone. “Stan,” he whispers on his skin, “I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be _mine_.”

 

Then he gives Stan a giant hickey.

 

“F-F-F-uck--,” is all Stan can get out, and he pulls Richie by his hair back to his mouth.

 

It feels like 30 seconds and 30 hours at the same time when the doorbell rings, because yeah, the fucking pizza. It was probably for the best they stopped now, Stan tried telling himself, watching as Richie uncomfortably walks to the front door. When he comes back, he drops the pizza box on the ottoman loudly, neither of them really hungry anymore.

 

“Did you mean it?” Stan asks.

 

“What?” Richie’s gaze is still a little unfocused behind his glasses.

 

Stan unconsciously touches the bruise forming on his collarbone. Richie’s eyes flick down to it.

 

“Yeah, I meant it. I want to be yours, Stanny.” No Voice, completely serious.

 

Stan leaned back on the couch, overwhelmed and happy.

 

“Do I have to be the only one confessing here?” Richie kicks Stan’s shoe to get him to talk.

 

“I want to be yours too, you fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what u think, find me on twitter @stoziersmax


	7. grand finale (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the END bois I'm so sad. [Playlist is here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170048930/playlist/6U53FNqT75QWBwxQQJTYzg?si=P_rXvMdyRO66c5lqS_gNSw)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Masyn @whateveryousayfreckles on here, it's her birthday today!!

“This place is so gross.” Eddie says, getting up off the sticky bar stool.

 

They’re back at Cool Beanz for Richie’s last show before graduation, Stan, Eddie, Ben, Mike, and Bill all standing around the back bar 45 minutes early.

 

“You’ll l-l-live,” Bill replies, rubbing circles into Eddie’s back. The group settles into comfortable silence again.

 

“I think,” Stan starts, not 100% sure why he felt like saying this joke, “I’m gonna hook up with the lead singer tonight.”

 

The group erupts into moans of protest. “Jesus, Stan,” Ben says.

 

“You have to s-s-stop hanging out with the T-T-Trashmouth.” Bill adds, shaking his head.

 

“Talking dirty about me while I’m not around?” Richie approaches them from backstage.

 

“Yes, actually,”

 

“Where’s Bev?” Ben asks.

 

“Right here,” she comes from the same direction as Richie, sitting in the empty seat Eddie left open next to Ben, “What are you guys talking about?”

 

“Stan just said he was going to hook up with the lead singer tonight.” Mike fills her in.

 

Richie looks at Stan, a hint of pride in his eyes as he laughs and pulls him closer.

 

“That would be wholesome if it wasn’t so gross.” She takes a sip of Ben’s water, then adds, “I can’t believe you said that, Stan. You guys are really made for each other.”

 

“It wasn’t _that_ bad...”

 

“Hey, it didn’t bother _me_ ,”

 

Stan looks around at his friends, feels Richie’s comforting presence next to him, and feels like he might burst. Before, he thought things in his life were ok (or, as ok as things can be) but now he feels like he woke up and realized he was dreaming the entire time. Until _now_.

 

Richie takes out his phone to look at the time. “We should go back now,” he says to Bev; she nods and gathers her stuff.

 

“Later guys,” she gives them a half wave before making her way through the crowd again.

 

“Stanley,” Richie is using the Southern Gentlemen Voice, “just remember that every song is for you, my love.” he drops the Voice, and says quietly, “But, uh, seriously.”

 

Stan just grins so big his face might crack open. Their friends always give them shit for too much PDA (when really, Eddie and Bill exist), so he grabs Richie’s hand and squeezes it tight. “I’ll see you after the show.”

 

Richie disappears into the crowd and Stan drops into the seat Bev just vacated.

 

“You ok, Stan?” Ben asks, always checking in--the dad of the group.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs out, “I’m perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what u think, find me on twitter @stoziersmax etc

**Author's Note:**

> Pls comment what u think or find me on twitter @stoziersmax


End file.
